Quest of Heart
by SherrySummer
Summary: She came in his dreams and gave him unconditional love, lifting him up from the sense of nothingness that was fast spreading through his battered soul. With her help, he will seek answers to his furious questions. Complete.
1. He came to me in my dreams

**Quest of heart**

She came in his dreams. And she gave him something that he did not think possible. She gave him unconditional love, lifting him up from the sense of nothingness that was fast spreading through his battered soul. With her help, he will seek his answers to his furious what-ifs.

**Disclaimer: **I do not have the pleasure of owning Phantom of the Opera.

Chapter One. He came to me in my dreams.

"Help me." The voice was calling her again. She felt the desperation, the sadness which reached to the core of her being. He was sobbing. His eyes closed, his hands reaching out for something he longed from the depth of his soul. She desperately wanted to help but she could not reach him. He could not hear her. He could not see her.

Hannah awoke, feeling incredible sorrow inside. Her dreams were so vivid and it was always about the same man, a man she never met. Yet he was so familiar and she felt she somehow belonged to him. She sighed, reaching for a glass of water she left on her bed side table. Slowly sipping the water, she tried to think clearly about her strange dreams.

* * *

_I belong to him._

_How?_

_I just know it._

_He is not even real._

_What is reality? I never felt so real about anyone, anything in my so called reality. He must be real._

_You don't know anything about him._

_I know what he looks like and how he sounds. I feel his emotions and his despair, sadness and longing._

_What about what he feels like? You don't know what it is like to touch him._

_Not yet. I must reach him first._

_How?_

_If it is his desire that calls me to him, my longing will bring him to me as well._

_Why do you feel so close to him? Why is he any different?_

_Why do we feel close to anyone? Reasons do not guide our feelings. Thoughts do not govern feelings. I just need to reach him and comfort him. I cannot be happy when his soul is dying._

_As you wish. Continue your search through the chaotic mist of your dream world, if it makes you happy._

_I am not here to be happy._

_Then why are you here?_

_Desire, longing, need. His desire, his longing and his need._

* * *

Hannah fell back into the softness of her bed. I'm here because of his desire. Desire so intense that it will not be simply denied. She smiled to herself before closing her eyes. I must reach him. He needs me. Sleep came over her with ease and she knew this time her dream would obey her.


	2. A gift

Chapter Two: A gift

Erik lied still in complete darkness. Behind the wall of his secret room, he could hear the mob destroying his home. Yet he was no longer angry. He just felt empty. It did not matter to him whether he lived or died. She was lost to him forever and with her, all his hope and secret longing. Why am I here? He wondered. Even his love and passion for music does not seem to lift him from the sense of nothingness that was quietly growing inside his broken heart, stifling his emotions which had tormented him mercilessly. As Christine so painfully pointed out, he was a fallen idol. Love made him vulnerable yet the yearning for warmth and understanding made him turn blind eyes to all the warning bells. Was she not his soul mate? Didn't they have something special, a connection that gave life beauty and meaning? Even when she betrayed him and chose Raoul, he desperately clung to that sense of connection. He believed his music would return her to him. Did she love him? He did not know. She felt something for him. There was passion in her second kiss. There was no doubt that Christine was attracted to him. Her eyes could not hide the truth. But was that love? He didn't know and he no longer cared. Then the questions came back to him. What if my face were perfect? What if I had no need to hide behind my mask? Would she choose differently? I want to know. He thought bitterly. Then sleep came over him, gently caressing his tired body and mind.

* * *

He saw a face gently looking down at his unmasked face. She had dark brown eyes, gentle and calm. He knew he wasn't wearing his mask yet he did not push her away. He saw warmth and understanding from her eyes and he just knew that she came for him. That he had been calling her. 

"Monsieur," she spoke softly, tenderly stroking his sensual lips with her fingers, "You have most beautiful eyes. Even in your darkest hours, those eyes never stop drawing me to you."

"Mademoiselle," he replied, fighting the sob that wanted to come out, "I thought you would never come."

"I came as soon as I could." She smiled, her fingers moving through his hair.

Erik nodded his head quietly. She lowered her lips to meet his and inhaled the relief and happiness that was spreading through his soul. He will heal. Hannah thought to herself, while quietly slipping out of her night gown. His eyes widened as her naked body pressed against his, her hands busily unbuttoning his shirt.

"Monsieur," she whispered into his ears, "I'm giving you my body, my heart and my soul. Tonight I am completely yours."

He looked into her eyes and saw the intense longing and passion in her eyes.

"Mademoiselle," he whispered back, "Give me your name so that I can guide you back to me wherever you are."

"Hannah. In my world which is not yet yours, my name is Hannah."

He pulled her closer, feeling her breath against his now bare chest. Thoughts were fading fast and they became one with the unrelenting waves of their desires.

* * *

Hannah opened her eyes slowly, her body still fiery and happy. She has finally reached him, lifting his soul up from the vast sea of emptiness he was falling into. For the first time in her life, she lost herself entirely to another and felt a whole. When she was in his arms, life no longer felt weightless and detached from her being. She experienced the sense of belonging. It was a gift that he gave her without knowing and she loved him in return with her body and soul. And that love healed him, breaking the curse that had haunted him all his life. 


	3. Turn of Fate

Chapter Three: Turn of fate

Erik was awake yet he didn't want to rise. He wanted to remember the strangely illusive dream he had last night. He remembered that there was a woman and they made love. That she made him content and happy. His body still felt her warmth and gentleness wrapped in deep passion, his heart yearning for her return. The details of the dream however escaped him completely. At last he shook his head and rose, abandoning his fruitless efforts. Slowly, he made his way to the wall of his temporary sanctuary. Only silence greeted his nervous ears. The mob had gone. It was time to retrieve his possessions.

The scene of destructions lay bare in front of his eyes. His prized organ was destroyed beyond repair. His music sheets were torn and spilt all over the floor, sharing the same fates with his enchanting drawings. His writing tools were broken into pieces. He sighed, thinking the irony of men who had to destroy the beauty he created, unable to punish the monster they were after. Oh they punished the monster alright, he thought, by savaging his beautiful creation. These were cowards who had no courage to fight him alone.

He quietly unlocked the door of his bedroom, which the mob failed to understand how to get in. He took out one of his white masks from the drawer after changing into clean clothes. He placed his mask on his right side face and frowned. Something was not quite right. It did not fit comfortably with his face. There was a slight gap between the two when there should be none. He walked to the mirror in the room, the only mirror that escaped his anger and despair. Facing the mirror, he slowly took the mask off from his face to examine the problem, feeling slightly annoyed that he had to carefully look at his haunted face.

He gasped at the face which greeted him, sharply turning away from it. Is my mind playing tricks with me? How is this ever possible? He closed his eyes and breathed a deep breath before hesitantly tracing the right side of his face with his fingers. There were no bumps. His fingers marvelled at the smoothness of the skin. When he finally opened his eyes again, the new face was still there. A strikingly attractive face without any trace of deformity finally smiled at him. Harsh and bitter laughter followed the brief blissful smile. The curse has finally left him after he lost the one thing he so desired and loved. But the new face gave him a chance to find out the questions that intrigued and haunted him. Would Christine still choose Raoul over him? Would he still love her with passion that borders obsession now that he was no longer destined to solitude and loneliness? For now, these questions alone guided his actions. He sat down at the edge of his bed to plan his next move.


	4. Hannah

Chapter Four: Hannah

Two years had passed since the end of the Second World War. Merely six months, however, passed after General Russell had finally returned to his French wife and his quiet sea side residence in America. His motive for staying in Japan after the war was rather simple. He merely wished to witness some of the reconstruction process in the land of his former enemies. Having seen so much destruction and suffering, he yearned for that little glimpse of hope for the new beginning. The hideous war crimes had ruthlessly exposed that the human minds, in their collective madness, were capable of fully materialising their vision of Hell into reality. He had seen enough of pain and misery caused by the willingness to deny and sacrifice individuals for the glory of the nation. He wanted to see the individual Japanese emerge triumphantly from somewhere in the battered consciousness of the collective Japan.

It was a mild summer's night when Hannah was found, carefully wrapped inside a basket. No one knew her exact origins. She had unmistakable Asian features on her face. But her skin colour was pale white and her black eye lashes were unusually long for a child of Asian origin. It was likely that she was a product of union between two people of different races. But there was nothing inside the wooden basket, which hinted how or why the baby was there. She was simply abandoned in front of the gate of the large house that belonged to James and Charlotte Russell. No one knew how long she was left there. She wasn't crying when she was found but she greedily sucked the milk that was given to her and her nappy was soiled. The case remained as a mystery as the police failed to trace her biological parents. When the police closed the case, James and Charlotte adopted her despite the rumours, stubbornly and widely held by the locals, that she must have been a love child of the former General.

Charlotte was fully aware of the rumours. However she could not find it in her heart to refuse her husband's wishes to adopt the baby. She was already in her early forties and yet childless. She knew James had been faithful to her. He never looked at women with desire. He never seemed to be interested in sex in any case. Perhaps it was his rigid Protestant upbringing but the physical activity did not seem to delight him in the least. She did not challenge him. Her religion also told her that sex was an evil that must be contained in marriage, its sole purpose being the creation of a child. After 10 years trying for a child, they simply ceased to share the same bed. When he came back from Japan, she began to suspect an unnerving change in James. With a sense of quiet alarm, she came to the realisation that James no longer cared for his religion. Yet his indifference to the marital bed remained the same. And this stubborn indifference which survived longer than its origin suddenly started to infuriate her. She wanted to be free. She wanted to be with another. And these thoughts horrified her. She needed a distraction from her own desires that was beginning to question the wisdom of Catholic teachings. She needed the baby.

James too knew about the misguided yet strangely comforting accusation. All his life, he was afraid, afraid that people would find out his secret desires. He had been desperate to deny their existence, to be normal just like everyone else. Both his religion and the society he lived in condemned and feared them. He too condemned and feared his desires for other men. That fear was the main force behind his marriage, although he undeniably loved and was comforted by Charlotte's beautiful singing voice, and his obligatory sexual performance that lasted 10 long years. His faith in his religion died during the war yet he was still afraid of being found out. Everywhere the old values were slowly dying but the changes were torturously slow, especially in his sea side town. The suspicion that he fathered Hannah, though not exactly a pleasant experience, finally let him believe that people would never suspect his true sexual orientation.

Hannah was a bright, thoughtful and obedient child, never causing a grief to her adopted parents. She was however strangely independent as a child, never seeking out a human company. She showed no interest in playing with other children. Instead she would surround herself with books and lose herself in her own thoughts. Hannah's intelligence and thirst for knowledge pleased James. The volume of books in his already large library grew fast thanks to the child's unending hunger for books and James' desire to see Hannah's intellectual growth. Charlotte, unable to compete with James' knowledge and intellectual curiosity, took charge of Hannah's music lessons and French lessons. Although Hannah did not show any major potential in singing, she learned the piano with ease and some enthusiasm. Her linguistic talents made French lessons a pleasing experience for both the mother and daughter. When she came to an age for a school, her parents, James with conviction and Charlotte with much reluctance, decided to hire a private tutor as they agreed that Hannah would benefit more from individually tailored learning and that children could be cruel to Hannah in their unguarded remarks. Although the town was getting used to the gentle little girl, they never forgot the illegitimate nature of her birth.

Hannah had a secret as a child. It was her inability to clearly distinguish between reality and stories. If anything, the real world seemed less real to her than the world created by thoughts and words. Her mother's attempts to instil Catholic beliefs in Hannah behind James' back did not help. Although she was fond of her mother, she could not relate to religious conviction. The values of society felt foreign to her and she often observed people and events as though watching a black comedy. She also found it difficult to have a purpose in her life. When her parents asked her what she wanted to do when she grew up, she had no real answer to offer. No profession appealed to her. Neither did she feel any desire to get married. But Hannah was an observant child and knew she had to keep her thoughts to herself. She knew her true feelings and thoughts could frighten people, even her parents who she had gentle affection for. In her struggle to offer a pleasing answer, which was further complicated by the conflicting expectation of her parents towards her, she would smile sweetly and evade the real question. "I would look after you when I get older. That's all I want." She was watching her life, never living it fully. Yet she lived the stories she read or dreamt.

Both James and Charlotte were grateful that Hannah had never asked them why she looked different from them. Such a thoughtful child. They would think with pride. It would have been difficult to tell her that she was not really their own. The simple truth was however it never bothered Hannah that she looked very different from her parents. While she too was a curious child, the objects of her curiosity usually remained in the realm outside her daily life.

When James passed away within a year after Charlotte's death, Hannah was left with the large house where she grew up as well as generous amount of savings. She was now 20 years old, still a child of solitude. Yet the savings would not last her lifetime if she did not find a profession. A translator. She smiled to herself as the prospect of forcing herself to venture into the daunting reality was easing away. I could work as a translator. She was grateful that her parents were so generous with her education. She was fluent in no less than 5 different languages. She fondly thought of her parents while glancing a last look at the estate she spent a contented childhood. "Good bye, Mama and Papa. I will miss you." She began her packing. It was time to move to Paris even though she had no idea why she felt this urge to be in Paris.


	5. Masks

Chapter Five: Masks

Erik looked down at his white mask held in his right hand with mixed emotion. This mask represented his phantom era. It gave him power and made him feel safe. Yet he cursed it at the same time as he could not look at it without thinking about what was behind. Now he no longer needed it yet he could not simply throw it away even though it was a reminder of his past pain and despair. He caressed it gently with his long fingers. He managed to slip it into one of his suit cases, which were tightly packed with what he could salvage after the mob's visit. He left his room to give one last look at his once beautiful lair. He would leave this place tomorrow and probably will not return for a long time. He should be happy that he could live in light without the fear of being discovered and hunted down. After all that's what he longed for, wasn't it?

Something told him he was dreaming. His home was once again lit with candle lights. His skilful fingers were creating the music of the night as his magnificent organ faithfully responded to its master. "I love this place," a soft sensual voice spoke from behind, "I love the lake and the candle lights. And your music brings to light the beauty and sorrow that graces only the darkness of the night in all its glory." Erik smiled as he felt the familiar gentle sensation around his waist. He turned her around to look at her face, gently lifting up her chin so that they could meet each other's gaze. Her black hair, the softness of which his fingers knew so well, was cut much above the shoulder line. He marvelled at how her unmistakable non-European features effortlessly blended with her pale white colouring.

Oh Hannah. He thought to himself. They will not fail to notice that you are different. They will not be able to see past your face. How is it that your heart conceals no bitterness?

"Monsieur," Hannah whispered, "You look a little different today."

"Erik," he smiled, "if you are tired of formalities. After all, we are rather well acquainted with each other."

"Erik," Hannah pronounced slowly, taking delight in the sound of his name. As Erik watched her full lips depart slowly, his desperate yearning for her body came back with its full force. He looked away from her and tried to focus on the questions he had for her. After a few minutes, he turned towards Hannah, to find the curious look on her face. He wrapped her small frame, covered only with a pale blue night dress, with his black cloak and led her gently towards his room.

"Are you moving away from your lair?" Hannah asked, pointing towards the suitcases. Erik nodded, gesturing Hannah towards the bed and seating himself on a chair. Hannah sighed before sitting on the edge of the bed. "I don't know why but I love seeing you here."

"I will come back here," he said softly, "every night if you wish." He knew no matter where he lived, his dream would effortlessly guide him to this place. The lair was no longer the prison of his mind. Only now he could appreciate, in its entirety, the true beauty of the place he built with his heart.

Hannah's face quietly brightened up.

"Hannah," Erik paused a little before going on, "Was that you? I mean, my face."

"I will only answer your questions if you sit next to me," Hannah replied with a small grin, gesturing Erik to the bed.

"You are impossible, Hannah." Erik moved towards her, wondering whether his questions will ever be asked tonight, let alone being answered.

"Well?" Erik pressed, taking her hands into his, "I'm here next to you, just where you want me to be."

"I do not know," Hannah gave him a warm smile, "I believe I was partly responsible but it was you who truly wanted to be free from your disfigurement just as it was you who called me. I only responded to your desires and that's all I know."

"So it is not entirely your fault that I have to part with my masks?"

"We all wear masks, Erik. You will soon wear one again only people will not see it this time. I wear one in my world. Not to hide my face but to conceal the fact that I do not often think or feel the way others would expect me to. The only person I do not have to wear it with is you. I do not seem to frighten you. My thoughts and emotions do not seem to repel you."

Erik understood then. His solitude was not entirely forced. His deformity had blinded him to the fact that people often hid themselves under a mask for acceptance. What he yearned for, to be accepted for who he truly was, was no mean task to achieve even without his deformity. If only his conscious self could see this. He sighed. He knew what his waking self were after when he already knew the answers in his heart.

"Hannah," he called her tenderly, stroking her cheeks with his fingers and feeling her hot breath on his neck, "Have you ever wanted to be accepted?"

"Yes," she looked up, locking her gaze into those penetrating green eyes, "for what I am. To be loved for being myself and not for how I looked or behaved."

I will learn more about her. Erik thought to himself, silently slipping out of his shirt and pressing his burning lips on hers. I will cherish every thought and feeling of hers without prejudice.


	6. New life, new freedom I

Chapter Six: New life, new freedom I

Paris, 1870

"You wish me to buy that opera house?" Nadir glared at the stubborn eyes of his masked friend. He had expected Erik would be either frightfully angry or drowning in despair. He looked neither. That look of familiar determination and air of unquestioning certainty, however, was unmistakably clear.

"I do not wish to deal with those two insufferable fools," came the short reply.

"You will be the new owner on paper. I, who will be hereafter known as Edward Russell, will however pay for the full cost and manage all the affairs," he continued, "Profits will be shared equally. You would not object to such a generous proposition?"

"But why must it be the Opera Populaire?" Nadir pressed, fully suspecting that he would not have a satisfactory answer.

"Why not?" Erik shrugged. "The fools will be desperate to sell it and I have a fondness towards that place. If you wonder what devious a scheme I plot under a seemingly innocent desire, all I can say is I no longer wish to cause any destruction or bent my anger at the world for its treatment of me. The world and I are no longer at war."

Erik slowly removed his mask, watching Nadir gasp in shock. So it was true. His face truly has changed. "You look rather frightened. How unlikely of you to be so easily scared by a mere face," Erik said in a mocking tone.

"Erik, you didn't. Did you?" Nadir's uncharacteristic response both amused and irritated Erik.

"Did I make a deal with the Devil? No the Devil has never shown any kindness towards me and I doubt that will change anytime soon if that's what you are wondering. I must confess however you do astonish me, Nadir. I never thought you were capable of such a vivid imagination."

"Then it must be God's will and his mysterious ways," Nadir concluded with a sigh of relief.

Erik made no reply. His friend was beginning to fatigue him.

"Where will you be staying?"

"Here," Erik replied, "I am to be your guest till I find myself a comfortable accommodation. Do not disturb my sleep and I shall be a pleasant company."

"I do not think I had that pleasure before," Nadir grinned, "Are you sleeping well now, my friend?"

"The nightmares seem to have forgotten me," Erik grinned back.

The next few days, Erik indulged himself in exploring the streets of Paris during the day. He would wander around the streets which he had only dared to visit with the protection of darkness, stop at shops for his necessities and a new wardrobe, or simply sit idly in a café, pretending to read a newspaper while listening to the conversations among strangers. No one paid much attention to him, occupied by their own daily businesses. If they did, it was with a look of admiration. The harsh day light could no longer punish him, forcing him to seek solace in darkness and masks. Only now he could be truly left alone if he wished so. And this realisation made him feel deliriously happy. He was finally free from his constant fear of persecution and self-pity.

In the evenings, Erik kept his promise to be a pleasant company to Nadir who was making a rapid progress with the purchase of Erik's opera house. André and Firmin were eager to sell the damned place although the fire damage was mostly limited to the interiors of the building rather than the structure. All that was left now was the tiresome paper work, which Nadir didn't find it too trying. During their evening meals, Erik would praise Nadir's exotic Persian dishes and discuss with him the redecoration and refurbishment of the opera house. Nadir would inform Erik of the political movements that were distracting the police from the search of the Opera Ghost and the rumours of the impending war. It was agreed that Erik's lair should be restored and all the known entries to be blocked. The political volatility and uncertain future meant that the investment to an underground sanctuary could prove to be useful once again.

After dinner, Erik would leave his host to retire to his bed chamber, where he composed music silently in his head for a few hours before sleep. Ever since the fateful day, he found himself eagerly waiting for his sleep to come. Each morning, he would awake with happiness in his heart and warmth vibrating through his content body, followed by feverish longing for someone in his dreams he could not recollect with clarity. Fleeting bits of memory were all he could muster. The feel of her body, the calmness she effortlessly instils in his soul, the passion she evoked in his much neglected and almost forgotten body, the happiness that he thought would never be possible. She had eyes that penetrated and embraced his heart. She had lips that would make his body ache with desire. Yet he could not remember the colour of her eyes. The shape of her face and body still escaped him. He felt rather frustrated at his inability to visualise his lover in his conscious mind, which lacked the conviction of his unconscious counter part that she would always be his and his alone. Each night, he hoped to relive the blissful dreams that brought her back to him. And this wish enabled him to losing himself completely to the power of the night, the secrets of the unconscious mind.


	7. New Life, New Freedom II

Chapter Seven: New Life, New Freedom II

Paris, 1967

Hannah felt a strange sense of nostalgia as soon as she entered Paris, a city which she had never visited before. France was the country of her mother but Charlotte had no affection for Paris. She often spoke of the French country side where she grew up, the tranquillity and beauty of the scenery. Hannah, on the other hand, felt no desire to see the country side. Like her father, Hannah loved looking at the sea, pondering about its mystery and depth. Yet she did not miss the town where she grew up. This foreign city, however, felt so very familiar and she felt as though she was coming home for the first time in her life. Even the polluted air seemed to contain sweet melody. A promise of new life, new experiences, was here and perhaps Hannah could finally start to live her life. She may become a player on the stage for once, no longer a spectator of life around her.

Hannah's rented accommodation was a large, studio flat above a café in a busy street of Paris situated near the famous Opera Populaire. She did not need much furniture but she wanted enough room for large book shelves. It comforted her to think that she was now living at the heart of Paris. She was curious to learn more about the social revolution that was sweeping through major cities of the world at the time. She also knew that here in Paris she could at last learn the secret of sex, which was denied to her in the conservative American town.

It was not that she had no opportunity to explore the pleasures of the body in the small sea side town. Societies, however religious and vigilant, never could completely oppress the sensual desires. Extra-marital affairs and pre-marital sex did happen in that town just as they happened everywhere throughout human history. All that religion and social oppression achieved was to make the consequences more unpleasant to some of the perpetrators, the unlucky ones. She had seen how cruelly people treated women who got pregnant without the protection of marriage. Yet she also knew many girls in the town indulged themselves in similar acts while joining in the vicious attack against the disgraced women. In her desperate bid to raise Hannah in her own image, Charlotte preached to her about the female virtues and physical innocence before marriage, which did very little to repress Hannah's growing desire to explore the pleasures of her body. She did not accept that a physical communication between two adults would invite a damnation of a soul. Rather it was the denunciation of sex outside the wedlock that caused so much suffering to the soul.

James, on the other hand, decided to give Hannah a practical advice on the subject despite his uneasiness to talk about attraction between a man and a woman. Without Charlotte's knowledge, he taught Hannah the various methods of birth control women used throughout history, including the Rhythm Method and modern fertility awareness techniques. He also informed her of the dangers that could accompany the pleasures of sex, the existence of sexually transmitted diseases. "It is also important to know that many men would often shamelessly lie about their feelings to gain the pleasures of body. Many men still cling to the old distinction that divides women into either Maria or Prostitute. If you want to freely give yourself to a man, you should be prepared that he may despise you for your gift." His advice touched Hannah deeply though Hannah silently winced at the expression 'your gift'. She understood that her father wanted her to make an informed choice. Among all the living, he was the person who she felt most close to. It saddened her to think that she could not tell all her thoughts and feelings even to this wise and loving man.

In the end, it was her desire not to cause any discomfort to her father that kept her away from pursuing her sensual desires. The town loved its gossips, and her unusual appearance meant that her actions were likely to catch the attention of prying eyes. She also knew men boasted their conquests to their friends. It would have pained her father if the town's rather tasteless gossips included his daughter's sexual conduct. Like all fathers, James wanted Hannah to be admired and respected. He did not approve the petty ways of life in the town. This did not prevent him from wishing to keep Hannah away from once again becoming the subject of unpleasant rumours. But here in Paris, she would find out what it is like to make love to a man. No pretence of love was necessary. She would not disguise her curiosity in the name of love. She would not lie to herself or to the one who would agree to satisfy her curiosity.

Paris kept some of its promises to Hannah. She learned more about and lived amongst the new, exciting and radical events of her time, which had intrigued her mind for a while. She would often discuss the oppressive nature of existing social norms and argue for more rights for women, gays and minorities with young Parisians who embraced the social and sexual revolution of the sixties. She drank freely with her new friends, exploring how alcohol affected her mind and body. And in this city of promises, she made love to a few men, some novice and some experienced, even though her first sexual experience made her realise that there was nothing special about this particular experience, that she could derive equal or perhaps more pleasure from listening to Mozart. Perhaps there was a same principle working behind the sensual pleasures and pleasures of the Arts, the desire to transcend the conscious self and reach out beyond the walls of the individual conscious mind. For a while, her new experiences made her feel more alive in the world where her body resided. Yet she knew deep down that she still was a spectator, that it was impossible to lose herself completely in this world. Even during an act of sexual intercourse, she never lost that role. As the novelty of her new life was wearing thin, she once again took solace in her solitude, distancing herself as much as she could from the world and people in it. She was once again the observer, the outsider. It was then that the dreams started.


	8. Dreams and reality

Chapter Eight: Dreams and reality

Thoughts and feelings, conscious and unconscious, travel beyond the confines of our body. Most of them remain oblivious to the consciousness of others, and it is due to this blissful fact that our inner thoughts and feelings stay within the safety of our private mind if we wish unless our body betrays them to the inquisitive eyes of another mind. They do reach, however, the unconscious realm of other minds, and our unconscious minds store a wealth of knowledge, some as old as the beginning of the universe, that the conscious mind cannot even begin to comprehend. For most people, the untamed realm of the unconscious are mostly unknown to their conscious ego, although there will be always some interaction between the two, for there is no clear boundary between them.

It was both a gift and a curse for Hannah that she had so much access to the secrets of the unconscious world. She remembered most of her dreams, the events she witnessed, the thoughts she read, and the feelings that reached her. It was through this ability she learned James' secret and Charlotte's torment, for feelings and thoughts so strong within the proximity of her body could not fail to reach her unconscious mind. At times, she wished to tell them what she knew, encourage them to go their separate ways and find happiness. Yet, she could not tell them about her secret ability. She felt a suffocating sense of guilt that her unwillingness to reveal herself even to her parents prevented them from releasing themselves from each other. _But then, how would I have known that what was revealed to my dreams was indeed real, that those feelings and thoughts truly belonged to my parents?_ She would think in exasperation. _How could I have claimed that anything I saw in my dreams happened in the realm of so called reality? _Till the fateful night when she finally reached Erik, she did not fully grasp that her dreams too were real, even more so than the reality humans presented to each other as what they perceived as such.

When she made love to Erik, she lost herself completely to him. It was necessary for her to utterly abandon herself, drop all her guards, to become his longing, his desire and his need. Anything less could not have helped him to release the power of healing he held deep in his soul. But she had seen much suffering in her dreams before; yet she could do nothing to help those who were in pain and misery. It was Erik who gave her power to finally reach him. It was he who had made it possible for her to give herself to him without struggle, without efforts. They knew very little of each other's respective lives in their separate worlds, but they understood why they had been drawn to each other. They grasped the special connection between them, a connection which transcended time, so very old and new at the same time.

Hannah continued her visits each night, and learned about Erik's life little by little. She didn't ask him many questions. He didn't have to say much. As soon as he started to talk, she could clearly see the images, read thoughts and feel the emotions in his mind. All she needed was to rock her gaze into his and concentrate. But most of the time she let him continue to talk. She loved hearing his voice, sensual and commanding, and watching his lips move seductively. Erik soon learned to read Hannah's thoughts and feelings too. He knew that even when he stopped talking, she was reading his thoughts and felt his emotions. When his thoughts of his past threw him into bitter turmoil, he saw that Hannah was in turmoil too. He realized that what Hannah felt was not pity. It wasn't even compassion. It was pure empathy. She was living his emotions without a barrier of the self and its protection.

She didn't ask, but he knew she wanted to know about Christine… the woman he thought he could have died for, the woman who had tormented him for so long. "Must you know?" he sighed, looking into Hannah's curious gaze.

"You have been avoiding any thoughts of her in my presence," Hannah replied, "but not very successfully. I've seen her images and felt some of your emotions towards her. You have not forgotten her, and I am interested in finding out about the woman who still undoubtedly haunts your conscious mind."

Erik was surprised to find that there was no jealousy in Hannah's heart. Instead, it was filled with genuine fascination and sadness. "You are worried that soon dreams may not be enough for me. You both want and dread that I find love in this world where my body is trapped. But Hannah, all I need is to remember you clearly when I awake, and I will be content with our beautiful dreams just as you are… even if I cannot find a way to for us to be together in our waking moments. I'm sure it will happen eventually. Just don't give up hope and abandon me, thinking you are doing me a favor."

"I will not leave your dreams as long as you need me." Hannah smiled, happy that Erik now could read her thoughts so accurately. "Now, tell me about Christine."

Erik told Hannah about his relationship with Christine from the time she came to live in the Opera house till the time he let her go with her fiancé. Hannah listened without disrupting him once. She merely frowned at Christine twice during the story for her acts of betrayal. What bothered Hannah was not that Christine sought Raoul's protection and love to escape from Erik. It was her shameless denial of her fascination over darkness and music that Erik had created. Hannah suspected that self-deception was at the root of Christine's cruel denial of all the beauty of darkness that Erik had revealed to her. Christine's second betrayal, exposing his deformity for all to see, was another act of desperate attempt to protect herself from the all consuming passion that had stirred inside her. Christine was a contradiction. She was compassionate and heartless at the same time. She looked naïve and innocent about the ways of the world; yet she made a series of boringly sensible decisions to Erik's despair. She was capable of so much passion, despite her vulnerable and childlike front.

"Your reflection on Christine amuses me Hannah," Erik said, with a hint of sarcasm in his tone. "You are intrigued by her and find her beautiful. You see beauty in my passion for her. Honestly, do you ever feel jealous?" Erik saw then jealousy was a foreign emotion to Hannah. He wanted her to be jealous, to want him all to herself, to tell him to get over Christine once and for all. Perhaps he should sing her the seductive songs that he had whispered into Christine's ears, just to make her jealous.

"I would love to hear them," Hannah chuckled quietly. "Was that the real connection between you and Christine? Music?"

Erik nodded silently, and then replied, "She understood my music, the essence of it, my loneliness, my longing, my passion and even my despair. And she brought my music to life, make my songs take wing. I felt that I had found that person whom I had been looking for all my life." Erik smiled, sensing a spark of jealousy rising from Hannah's heart. It made him happy to know that he was the first to evoke that emotion within her. That happiness was quickly replaced by guilt and concern for Hannah. "But I know now that she wasn't, and you know this as well," Erik added hastily, taking her hand to his lips. "I'm sorry, Hannah. I just wanted to see you jealous."

It was very rare that people found their soul mate in their limited time on Earth. Many gave up the hope and built love and affection with those who they happened to meet and became attracted to. Others believed they found their original half only to wake up to the cold reality that they had been wrong. Still, others believed wrongly but lived happy together and died in peaceful ignorance. _What would Erik's life have been like if Christine had chosen him over Raoul?_ Hannah wondered. It was possible he could have found happiness with her. It was also possible he could have become disillusioned. Either way, she was certain Erik would have stayed by Christine's side. But it was Erik and Christine's connection through music that had made Hannah feel uneasy. She could not give Erik the voice that would make his music take flight. Hannah did not like the unfamiliar emotion that had invaded her heart. Does love inevitably lead to sacrifice? She felt miserable, and she had never been miserable for herself before.

"Which year are you living in?" Erik asked, trying to turn her thoughts away from the one subject he didn't feel comfortable discussing with Hannah.

"1970. You?"

"1870. I must visit you sometime. It would be interesting to know how people live in future."

"You will find 1970 interesting. When you come and visit me, I will tell you all about the social and sexual revolution. Oh, no. 1870, did you say?"

Erik nodded, sensing Hannah's fear and pulling her tightly into his arms, where she always felt safe.

"That is the year of the Franco-Prussian War. There will be a siege of Paris, and then there will be a revolution in Paris.**" **

"There is a talk of an immanent war," Erik replied calmly in his mesmerizing voice. "But you must trust me. I'm a survivor, and I will not endanger myself now that I have you. Tell me what you know about the war and revolution."


	9. Visitors from the past

Chapter Nine: Visitors from the past

Nadir couldn't help but smile, as he pressed his ear to Erik's door. It was past 9 o'clock in the morning, and his friend was still asleep. He had never known Erik could sleep so long and remain good-tempered as the last three weeks they had spent together under the same roof. _The sleeps must have been doing him good._ He thought to himself, as he was about moving away from the door. Then, he heard the soft murmur that had escaped Erik's lips. "Oh… Hannah."

Nadir tried to search his mind to see whether he recognized that name, and could not relate the name to any face he knew. He had never heard Erik mention that name. Yet, it seemed that whoever owned that name brought peace to Erik's heart. _Perhaps Christine does not have so much power over him any longer. _He silently hoped, for his friend's sake. He had been secretly worried that Christine could plunge Erik into the abyss of despair once again. Erik never spoke of Christine after that night, but Nadir suspected that Erik would not give up pursuing her, with or without his help. He only agreed to help Erik, as he believed that his friend indeed intended no harm to Raoul or Christine. He believed that Erik was in better control of himself than before. His help also enabled him to keep closer eyes on Erik's move.

It was nearly 11 o'clock in the morning when Erik finally came into the living room. Nadir smirked, as he saw Erik's elegant form entering the room.

"Slept well, my friend? I invited Madame Giry and her daughter to the opera house, just as you had instructed. We better leave now; otherwise we would be late for the appointment."

"Why did you not wake me up?" Erik glared at Nadir, but soon remembered that Nadir had been told not to disturb his sleep.

"I know your temper improved lately, but I wouldn't willingly provoke it," Nadir replied coolly.

"I hear that it wouldn't be too long before that hopeless fool would join the useless French army," Erik spat, still annoyed about Nadir's all-knowing smirk. "Is the wedding still to take place as planned?"

"That seems to be the case. I heard that the Vicompte had been insistent on it, despite his parents' wishes to delay the wedding, till the rumors die out," Nadir replied, rather puzzled that Erik didn't seem to feel any more than slight annoyance and bitterness towards the wedding. He had thought he could read Erik better than anyone.

"I am glad to hear it," Erik said simply, heading towards the front door. "Now, come with me. We have an appointment to keep."

Madame Giry could not tear her eyes off the new manager of the opera house. He reminded her of her poor Erik, whom she had once saved from a cruel fate worse than death, and had served as his assistance. She had protected him like her own child, and yet betrayed him in the end, for the fear of Christine's safety. When she learned how he had released Christine, she felt deep shame and remorse for her action. Would he ever forgive her? She had visited Erik's lair a few times after the fire, and had been unable to find any trace of him. Last time when she tried to visit him, she had found that all the entries known to her had been blocked. Apparently, it had been done according to the instruction from the new manager whom she had not met then. She had been told that the new manager would not risk letting the phantom influence the opera house any longer, in case he had been still alive.

"Excuse me, Madame and Mademoiselle Giry. But my friend here does not like being stared at, although I find it often being the case that ladies just can't seem to help themselves."

Madame Giry blushed and averted her eyes immediately from Nadir's friend, realizing that Meg must have been admiring his features, while she was thinking about the strange resemblance between the man in front of her and her old friend.

"Yes … Of course. Please do accept my sincere apologies, Monsieur Russell. It was very kind of you, Monsieur Khan, to give us employment here. It had not been easy to find work since the sad event. We can promise that we shall both do our very best to make this place profitable once again. We shall both work very hard."

"Then I shall be pleased, Madame. I was told that you were both very capable. However, I am a hard man to please, and there is a lot of work to be done," Erik replied without betraying any emotions he was feeling. He initially suspected Nadir to have betrayed him, but Nadir had assured him that he had watched the whole affair in safe distance. He had protested that he had not talked to Raoul, let alone leading him to the lair. Erik knew Nadir wasn't lying, and it meant that it was Madame Giry who had abused his trust.

_I swear it is the same voice._ Without venturing to look at the new manager, Madame Giry thought to herself. _This man has the same voice as Erik._ She didn't know what to think any more.

"Do I remind you of someone you know, Madame?" Erik spoke again, his eyes cold with contempt. "I was told that you were a lady made of stone, and yet you seem rather uneasy around me. I cannot think what I have done to make you feel that way within the short time of our acquaintance. I can only conclude that I remind you of someone that you would rather forget."

"No woman is made of stone, Monsieur," Madame Giry replied, regaining her composure. "You have some similarities to an old friend of mine who was very dear to me. I fear I have lost him, and I grieve for the loss."

Erik's heart softened slightly, seeing sorrow and what looked like regret in her eyes. She had saved him once and served him faithfully, till doubts had plagued her mind. Still, he knew things between them would never be the same again. _Betrayal is a sign of weakness, and only fools would trust those who once committed that act. I may forgive you in time, but I will not trust you again._

"I am sorry to hear that. Thank you for clearing things up, Madame. I would like to hear more about your old friend sometime in future. But now we must discuss our next production."

Erik was about to reveal that he intended to put _**Così fan tutte**_ (Thus do all [women) on stage when their discussion was disrupted by a soft knock on the door. Nadir went to answer the door, and stood still in disbelief. At last, he managed to squeeze out, "How may I help you, Mademoiselle?"

"I was just wondering whether you have seen …"

_That voice._ Erik's heart sank as he recognized the owner of the voice. He felt acute pain in his chest, his blood running hot and cold in turn. All his emotions were coming back to him. He was not yet ready for this encounter. He was thankful that Madame Giry was not looking at him, as her attention had turned to her adopted daughter.

Christine could not finish her sentence as Meg squealed with joy, and ran to give her a hug.

"Mademoiselle Giry, we have not finished our discussion yet. Perhaps your friend can wait a little outside before you talk with her," Erik said in a strictly matter-of-fact tone of voice. He was pleased that he could control his emotions so well.

Hearing his voice, Christine turned as white as a ghost. "Angel," she muttered meekly, trying desperately to move forward towards the source of the voice, when her body seemed to have frozen on the spot.

"Don't be silly, Christine," Meg interrupted cheerfully. "Let me introduce you to our new manager, Monsieur Russell."

Erik slowly got up from his chair and turned to face Christine.

"Monsieur Russell. This is my beloved friend, Christine Daae. She used to enchant the audience of this opera house with her beautiful singing."

Christine looked at the man who was staring at her with a slightly amused look on his face. It wasn't just his voice. His eyes and lips reminded her so much of her angel. But this man had a flawless face and wore no mask. Unlike her angel, his brown hair was not neatly combed back, falling freely just above the collar of his shirts. His eye brows were brown perfectly matching his hair color. She could detect no tenderness in his piercing green eyes. She was everything to her angel, and nothing to this man. Without much thinking, she stretched out her hand, which he took and applied his cold lips to.

"I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mademoiselle Daae. I have heard about your enchanting voice. I hope the rumors are not true, that you gave up your singing." He turned to Madame Giry and Meg, before Christine could make a reply. "You will all forgive me for my rudeness earlier. I shall leave you for now, and resume our discussion in an hour or so. Perhaps you would like to talk a little with your friend in private."

Erik quickly bowed and left the room, with very much mystified Nadir in tow.


	10. Christine's secrets

Chapter Ten: Christine's secrets

"Christine. You look rather ill. Is everything alright?"

Christine nodded meekly to Meg's concerned voice.

"I am fine. I do not have much time, but I just wanted to see you both. It has been so long."

"Well you must have been very busy, my dear. I heard that the wedding would take place next week. There must be a lot to do," Madame Giry spoke in warm voice, thinking Christine must have seen the resemblance too.

"I am so sorry that I could not invite you and Meg to the wedding. His parents just would not have it. I so wanted to see familiar faces in my wedding."

"Don't worry about it, Christine. We already suspected that something like that would happen. Besides, we are not even sure whether we could get time off from work so easily, as we have been just employed by the new management. We merely want to see you happy. You are happy, aren't you?"

Meg consoled her friend, thinking that she wouldn't have liked mixing with snobbish relations of Raoul, anyway. She would rather be a mistress of a noble man than his wife. The prospect of having to suffer the sneers of the upper class while being forced to remain in their company didn't appeal to her at all.

_The __Arts come before romance or marriage anytime._ Meg reflected. _I'd rather grow old without any companion than give up my dancing. How could you give up your singing, Christine? And, for what? The reality of marriage is not a fairy tale. That's why all fairy tales end, when two people get married. Do you wonder what would have really happened to Cinderella after the wedding? I don't think she would have made a credible queen. Do you? Only the Arts allow us to live in our dreams, forever. You have given up the true beauty of the Heaven for the false promise of the Earth. My poor friend… How my heart aches to see that you must live by your decision._

"Meg is right, Child. All that matters is your happiness. You do still want to marry Raoul. Don't you?" Madame Giry saw a glimpse of uncertainty in Christine's eyes, which she found a little disquieting. They had to be happy for her sake.

"Yes of course," Christine answered. "He has been so good to me and I love him very much. It's just that he will leave our home to serve the Emperor… not long after… our wedding, and I'm so worried about what might happen to him."

"Christine, I'm sure Raoul can look after himself. He will always come back to you, no matter what," Meg mumbled whatever she thought would help to calm Christine's fear.

"I thought that about _him_ too, and I do not even know whether he is still alive. He promised he would be always my angel."

The bitter tone in her voice surprised both her friend and her adopted mother.

"I'm sorry… I sometimes feel angry at him for making me choose. Why couldn't he just accept what I could offer? I shouldn't have been forced to choose between him and Raoul. I needed him just as much as I needed Raoul, for different reasons. And I could not be happy without both of them in my life."

"Child, we all must make painful choices in life. I'm sorry that things cannot stay the same. None of us can have everything we want. That is the sad reality," Madame Giry replied calmly to Christine's little outburst, while Meg took her friends' hand into hers, displaying tender sympathy.

Christine's unguarded remarks angered Madame Giry, as she now realized that her betrayal of Erik's trust had been, indeed, all for nothing. Still, Christine was her family and a child. "You will, however, always have our support, and I'm glad that you finally shared with us your inner thoughts on this matter. If things are getting tougher for you in future, you will find us here to give you the comfort you need. We are to move into the opera house soon."

"Yes… of course," Christine murmured, feeling rather embarrassed and wondering what on earth had possessed her to make that uncomfortable revelation.

"You must come and see us often, Christine." Meg gave a warm smile at her friend, secretly wondering whether she could ever be happy.

"Thank you both. It means a lot to me that I have your love and friendship. I think I better leave now. You must be eager to get back to your discussion, and I have so little time today," Christine rose, then hesitantly added. "Would it be possible for me to have moments alone with Monsieur Russell? I believe I owe him an apology. It won't take long."

* * *

Standing close to the door of the manager's office, Erik shook his head in disbelief. _It seems that I can do nothing right by you._ He laughed at the irony of it all. _You were desperate to rid of me, and now you are angry because I didn't contact you again. So where does this lead us to?_ It was a good sign for him that she was not entirely happy with the prospect of her marriage to Raoul. He understood that time was against him if he tried to persuade Christine to break off her engagement from Raoul. He wasn't even sure whether he wanted to, given that he no longer knew whether he wanted Christine by his side, for the rest of his life. Still, it pleased him to know that Christine missed him for whatever reason. He knew that it wasn't just music she desired from him. He would make sure that she would not run away from her secret desires once again. He silently moved away from the door towards Nadir, who was fidgeting in safe distance, not bothering with the rest of the conversation between the women.

* * *

"You wished to speak to me alone, Mademoiselle?"

Christine turned to face the man who stared down at her. His lips were curled up slightly in bemusement. For one brief moment, she fancied she had seen a hint of tenderness in his eyes, before they resumed a composed indifference.

"I would like to apologize for my strange behavior towards you," Christine spoke finally, "earlier today."

"Oh, that," he replied grimly. "I am afraid that I do remind you and Madame Giry of someone whose association with you was perhaps not altogether pleasant. I only hope that person does not bother you any longer and that you can look at me without whatever thoughts that are haunting you."

_Ah__, but… it is your voice that haunts me._ Christine thought to herself. _You have his voice that does not leave my head._

"You have a beautiful voice," Christine drew in a deep breath before continuing. "Do you sing, Monsieur?"

"I have not sung for a while, Mademoiselle. I do, however, compose music, and I would be honored if you could sing for my music, some day."

"It is such a shame that you stopped singing, Monsieur." Christine saw a glimpse of pain from his eyes. _Perhaps he too had an aching memory that he would rather forget._ Christine thought to herself. _Angel. Where are you?_

"I can no longer sing in public, but I would feel privileged if you could give me private singing lessons. I find life without music rather suffocating."

_So you seek me out once again._ Erik laughed inwardly. _This time, however, I will take what I want from you. Never will I allow you to have so much power over me. You will not have another opportunity to unmask me._

"I will be free on Monday afternoons, Mademoiselle. Contact me nearer the time you could begin your lessons. I am not easy to please, but I trust your voice will give me much pleasure."

He applied his lips briefly to her outstretched hand, and left her without a single backward glance.


	11. Let the game begin

Chapter Eleven: Let the game begin

"I never thought I would say this, but I do seem to miss your company at home." Nadir looked around the seating room, which was furnished simply but elegantly. "Are you happy here? Is there any particular reason for having chosen this house? It seems rather small, and the street at the front is quite busy."

"It has enough space for me to work, if I wish," Erik smirked. "Besides, there is a tunnel below this house that leads to my underground home. I have employed only one house keeper to clean twice a week. It is quite private, despite its appearance. If you wish to avoid prying eyes, it is better to live where people are busy making a living."

"Indeed," Nadir nodded. "It is not a good time to appear rich. The Parisians are rather discontent and rebellious at the moment."

"Not a good time to get married to a Vicompte," Erik replied coolly. "She was not that clever after all."

"She is nevertheless married, Erik," Nadir replied, feeling relieved that Erik had been amiably in control of his emotions. He briefly wondered whether he should ask Erik, who Hannah was. In the end, he decided not to mention the name. Erik would be furious if he found out how Nadir had come to know the name.

"I will not touch her against her wishes. If she wishes to remain a virtuous wife against her true desires, so be it," Erik laughed off Nadir's protest. "I believe all the paperwork keeps you busy."

"I can manage helping you with the accounting," Nadir replied with a sigh. "I knew it was too good to be true when you told me all I had to do was to get the place off from the incapable hands of the previous owners. Is there anything else that I can help you with?"

"France will lose the war. Paris will be under siege for months. Stock my lair with enough food for two of us and pay the workers well. I will work them hard, so make sure they are paid well."

"How do you know this, Erik?"

"Instinct," Erik smiled.

* * *

Christine swirled around from her reflection in the full-length mirror, as she heard Raoul entering the room. She knew she still looked beautiful and innocent, just as she had imagined what a woman in a happy marriage should look like. And Raoul was her prince charming, looking as radiant as ever. The sparkle in his eyes, every time he saw her smile, was a proof that he wanted and would always try to please her. He was weak, however, despite the fact that his love for Christine was pure. He had shown an uncompromising resolve in his bid to make Christine his wife. Nevertheless, he could fight his parents only so far. As soon as they had relented and gave their reluctant blessings to his marriage to a lowly opera singer, his desire to see a smile of approval from his parents' faces had resurfaced and remained a strong force. When his father suggested that he should join the French army to serve the Emperor and do his family proud, he could not object to these wishes. His country needed him, and defending France against the threats of her enemies is what De Chagnys do. _Christine would not love a coward._ He managed to convince himself, when the prospect of being separated from her looked rather daunting.

Christine had not asked him whether she could go back to singing, and he had been happy to let the matters rest there. On those occasions when he had seen the look of sadness and loss on her sweet face, he could not altogether avoid the unpleasant thought that she still had feelings for the Phantom, his arch enemy. At the same time, he felt guilty that he might have taken her music away from her.He dreaded the thought of having to fight his parents once again, hoping that Christine's desire for music would not prove to be too strong. That she would eventually find happiness in his love alone. Deep down, he suspected that his hopes were foolish. But, for now, he was happy about the way things were, especially as she had become more cheerful and looked less lost, since her brief visit to the Girys. He was sorry that he had to leave Christine's side so soon.

_But if the rumors were true, it wouldn't__ be too long before the war._ He thought hopefully. _After the war, I will not leave her side. I will survive the war, because I know she will be waiting for me to come home to her._

"My darling, Christine… you look so lovely." With a slight blush on her cheeks, she accepted his kiss with the grace of a grown-up woman and the charm of child-like innocence.

"I am happy, Raoul," she said. "I cannot believe I'm married to you. We have a life together in front of us. And you are everything that I wished for a husband. But …"

"I'm sorry, Christine … I wish … I wish I could stay longer at your side. It's not fair to you… so soon after our marriage. I will come back to you. You won't be able to get rid of me when I do. Please stop worrying about my safety."

"Would you very much mind if I continued my visits to Madame Giry and Meg? They are rather like my family." Her voice was sweet and full of trust. She instinctively knew how she could get what she wanted from Raoul. Her angel was always difficult to predict. Raoul was safe because he was more predictable. She could only live with those she understood.

"Of course not, Christine. I'm glad you have friends to talk to… while I am away," Raoul replied, enveloping her in his arms.

She kissed him on the cheek, and Raoul knew he could not refuse her anything. He might, after all, have to be difficult with his parents once again.

* * *

Christine lay content in his arms, as Raoul fell into a blissful sleep. She wished that he could mean everything to her; that her love was as pure as his. For so long, she had furiously denied her attraction to her Angel, who lived in the world of the shadows. Deep down, she had suspected that he was the much dreaded Phantom of the Opera. That was why she had desperately clung to the Angel of Music scenario, which had been much more comforting to believe, refusing to acknowledge that her angel had been a mere mortal; a dangerous man for that matter. She had loved him and pitied him. At the same time, she had feared his reckless passion and his possessive nature. She had been angry at him for the uncontrollable passion that he had evoked in her heart, passion for the beauty of darkness, the music of the night. She had wanted him and felt appalled by her desire. Her picture of happiness had not exactly included life in darkness with a murderer. She had had no option but to resist her feelings for him, to blame him for everything that had gone wrong between them. It could not have been her fault that his obsession had taken him to the brink of madness. But, since he had vanished from her life, she had found it impossible to shake off the guilt; the thought that she might have destroyed him. The thought of never knowing what it was like to succumb to his promise of true beauty had distressed her along with the sense of guilt that had been eating away at her heart. When she had met the new manager in the Opera Populaire, she had suddenly seen a sign of hope. She understood that he could not possibly be her angel. But it was too much of a coincidence that a man who was so much like her Angel would just appear in her life, without reason. Perhaps the _Merciful God_ took a pity on her soul. Perhaps the man had been sent to represent her Angel. Perhaps he could release her from her torment. Then… only then… could she love Raoul with the same purity of heart. 


	12. Beauty and Love

Chapter Twelve: Beauty and Love

Hannah's face beamed with smile as she felt Erik's presence behind her. "You are here," she turned from her writing desk to find Erik peeking through the fridge.

"An interesting device," He commented before continuing his search of the contents in the unfamiliar device. "Fruits, eggs, milk, honey and nothing else."

"There are some nuts in the cupboard," Hannah replied. "One does not need to cook when one lives direct above a café. Besides, the best food for human body requires no catering."

"You will have a hard time to convince the French of your theory. But you have persuaded me." Erik kissed her gently on the lips and whispered into her ears. "This, for instance, is the best food for my body."

Hannah whispered back, "If you continue being your charming self, you won't have time to look around this place."

"I've already had a good look. You weren't as quick in spotting me as you thought. I had been a professional ghost and was very good at my job."

"Prove it," she challenged, before bursting into laughter. "So, you saw _Fanny Hill_."

"May I enquire what it was doing on the book shelf that belongs to an intelligent young lady? You have a weird sense of humor, Hannah. You placed that book between Plato and Aristotle."

"I'm glad to find that I amuse you. You read it, did you not?" Hannah mocked at his fake tone of reprimand.

"I am a curious man by nature."

"No doubt. Did you like the book?"

"I liked the author's writing style, which I found rather witty. The contents were… educational. Stop trying to evade my question. I have to remind you that you still haven't answered it."

"I like the book. It ruthlessly exposes the hypocrisy of a society that preaches so-called female virtues. It makes me laugh to think what outrage the book must have caused by allowing the heroine not to feel repentant and giving her a happy ending. I like the character. She is blatantly honest about herself and her desires. I like her and laugh with her."

"Were you laughing at Plato and Aristotle?"

"I was laughing at myself. Philosophers should learn to live a bit. So should I."

"You are living, Hannah." He smiled. "I can see that, when you are with me."

"It's funny that I feel more alive in my dreams. When I am awake, I am so good at detaching myself from everything. I cannot feel overwhelming passion for any object in my conscious world. Every emotion is toned down. I am quite safe, because of that. The only thing that seems to interest me is to know who I am and what I want."

"That's why you wear a mask… because you think you don't stand a chance against the weight of reality. You think it might crush you."

"I don't think I can make a history. Only courageous or reckless individuals can change the world. I sometimes think, though, I am missing out on something. I have been too good at protecting myself from any possibility of losing myself to passion."

"That's not a bad thing," he said softly. "Not when I am not in your world."

"You are really possessive. Are you not?"

Erik saw Hannah frowning a little, but knew that she was trying not to show her amusement. She wasn't mad at him. She was incapable of being angry with him, just as he never experienced that particular emotion towards her.

Wrapping Hannah's shoulder gently with his arm, Erik started to closely examine one of Hannah's sketches on the white wall above her bed. His eyes were drawn to a naked woman, her hands bind by rope behind her back, surrounded by a hysteric, fanatic crowd. Behind her, there were other naked women bound by the same fate, their half-closed eyes facing the ground and their faces contorted with shame and fear. But the woman in front held her head high, and there was a glimpse of pride in her almost stoic eyes. He could not help but find her beautiful.

"I have seen them in one of my dreams," Hannah offered an explanation. "They were found guilty of corrupting female virtues and were sentenced to be burnt at stake, after being paraded through the village."

Hannah's voice momentarily faltered in sadness. "Then I saw her and her triumph. She found her dignity, despite the public humiliation and the harrowing fear of painful death. The cruelty of the world could not break her spirit. This I found beautiful. Not all suffering is beautiful. But she created beauty in that moment of despair, and it touched me."

"You think beauty is inexplicably linked to sadness and inner struggle?"

"Beauty is the triumph of the individual," Hannah observed, "which transcends time and space to reach the depth of other hearts."

His eyes moved to other sketches. These were the sketches of love and longing, restrained passion that was achingly sad and hauntingly beautiful. He saw a man looking at a woman who just stabbed him on the back during his sleep, who betrayed his trust and refused to return his passion. Yet, his eyes still spoke love, despite the pain, confusion and anguish. It didn't matter whether she deserved his love. That was the mystery about love. Its beauty could not be denied by its desirability.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hannah asked.

"It is his moment of triumph," Erik mused. "Human hearts crave for that beauty. They crave for love itself. My love for Christine was hopeless, its only outcome despair. Yet, for that very reason, it was safe from disappointment. I never really had to know who she was. I knew so many things about her. Yet, I never knew her."

Erik's thoughts intently searched Hannah's, asking the question that both intrigued and concerned him. _Why, Hannah? Why do you let me pursue Christine?_

And he heard the answer. _Because Erik I have to know. I have to find out what Christine really means to you. Your obsession with Christine is an important part of your conscious self. And I must know all of you even if it breaks my heart._

Erik looked at her stubborn eyes and shook his head. "Then, Hannah," he said with a sigh of resignation. "We are just as bad as each other."

"Indeed," Hannah replied. "_**Così fan tutte**_?I love the opera. I can almost hear Mozart laughing."

**Author's note:** In case some of you do not already know, _**Così fan tutte**_ is an opera by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

Very briefly, the plot is: Two officers, Ferrando and Guglielmo, accept a challenge from Don Alfonso, who claims that he can prove that their fiancées, like all women, are fickle in a day's time. They disguise themselves in a bid to seduce each other's lover. After executing a series of hilarious schemes, they manage to achieve their goal. In the end, all is revealed and forgiven.

I am sure you can guess why Erik wanted the piece performed in his opera house.


	13. Lessons I

Chapter Thirteen: Lessons I

Christine looked, with quiet anticipation, at the man who had just made her sing selections from _**Così fan tutte**_. She knew that her songs had pleased him, and her heart felt that nearly-forgotten pride once again. It did not unnerve her that she was alone with this man in his house during her lessons. She dressed as simply as she could. Her lessons were her little secret, and she did not desire to attract unnecessary attentions to herself. He had been treating her politely but with indifference. It pained her not to see desires in his eyes and feel longing in his voice.

"You had been well tutored, Madame," he said, barely lifting his eyes from the keyboard. "May I ask who your tutor was?"

"My previous tutor wishes to remain anonymous," she stammered, feeling rather uneasy at his direct question.

Erik gave a brief glance towards her direction. _You continue to deny me._ He thought to himself with quiet anger. _Your heart is treacherous. Yet, you accused me of having been a false friend to you._

"Would you like to sit down?" he offered, rising to his feet.

Christine seated herself on the sofa, murmuring thanks. She waited for him to say more. _Oh how I love hearing your voice. The voice of my angel. Yet, you speak to me so rarely._ She answered that she did not care for tea, hearing him ask her whether she wanted any refreshments. She had so little time with him and didn't want to lose the sight of him during her short stay.

Erik sat across from Christine who looked slightly agitated.

"I heard you had been to one of the rehearsals. How did you find it?"

"It will be an amazing production. The actors all sang their parts perfectly. The story and music will appeal to the public."

The sparkle in her eyes soon gave away to sadness. How she wished to play the part of Fiordiligi.

"Meg's Despina was a joy to watch. I heard you were giving her lessons," she continued, feeling his penetrating gaze upon her,

A sense of jealousy stirred in her heart. Meg spent more time with him than she did.

"Despina is a good part for Meg. Her voice suits the role while her playful nature makes the portrayal of the character perfect. I am satisfied with my cast although I wish you could play Fiordiligi."

"I wish that too," Christine blushed at the thought of singing the duet _Fra gli ampless _(In the embraces) with him.

"It can be done," a seductive voice purred into her ear. "I can be seduced."

Christine turned her face in surprise and found his beautiful green eyes looking down into hers.

"You need not offer me all of you." The mesmerizing voice continued working its charm on her, violently waking that silenced urge inside her. "Christine…"

She raised herself slowly, her eyes greedily taking in his chiseled features. He did not move, his eyes commanding her to make the first move. She took his unwilling hand into hers and pleaded. "Please."

His lips finally came down onto hers. His kiss was fiery, and hers was desperate. He broke off the kiss and said in a quiet voice, "Madame, it is nearly a time for your carriage to arrive at the Opera Populaire, where you are supposed to have been. Perhaps you would like your visit to the Girys… to be a little longer, next time."

She nodded meekly and headed towards the door which he held open for her.

"You will not ask all of me?" Her eyes were hopeful.

"I will not ask anything of you," he replied. "Ask whatever you want with me during your weekly visits. I will try my best to oblige your wishes."

"Thank you." The genuine gratitude in her voice startled him but he just nodded at her unexpected reply.

Just as she was turning from him, she heard him saying, "Madame, all our arrangements will come to an end when your husband comes home or when I judge that it is time for me to finish them."

Erik sat at his writing desk, looking intently at a gold ring placed on his palm. He had bought the ring for Christine, before Raoul came on the scene and crushed any hope of Christine returning his passion for her. He had meant to make her wear the ring at the night of _Don Juan Triumphant_. But, for some reason, he had been reluctant to give it to her. Instead, he had given her the ring that Raoul had bought her for their engagement, the ring that had been consuming his heart with jealousy. Had he known all along that he wouldn't be with her always? When she suddenly reappeared into his life, he was afraid that he still loved her and hated her. He still wanted answers to his questions that would not allow him to leave the past behind. The lessons confirmed to him that the musical connection between them still existed; that her voice still was and would always be the object of his desire.

However, each encounter with her also confirmed that everything had changed. Even that special connection between them lost some of its magical appeal. He no longer saw her triumph as his. He used to need her voice to find that glimpse of beauty in his miserable life, a life of self-loathing and despair. That life was far behind. As soon as he realized that she had missed him, his heart clearly told him that he no longer loved her with the same passion he once held for her. He had expected that he would despise and leave her, once his love lost its all-consuming intensity. That did not happen either. And now, he clearly understood what Christine had really wanted, and that realization made him pity her. All the time he and Raoul planned her future for her and forced her to make a choice, they never asked her what she really wanted. She did not want to choose between them. He could have prevented her from making that painful decision. Raoul didn't even have to be aware of his existence, had it not been for his fierce jealousy and intense desire to possess her completely. Christine could have continued to sing for her angel. His soul no longer needed her. Yet, to his surprise, Erik found himself unable to abandon her entirely. He still desired her body, and even though he no longer desired her heart, he still cared for her in some way. He had to know what it was like to make love to Christine. More importantly, he had to know what it meant to Christine to love him physically.


	14. Promise

Chapter Fourteen: Promise

Erik lay on his side, his face resting on his left elbow while his right hand holding Hannah's both hands. She looked so peaceful and content in the candle light, her eyes closed and her lips ever so slightly apart.

"You were very eager tonight, were you not?" Erik smirked. "Just like the very first time when we made love."

"So were you," Hannah slowly opened her eyes to meet his gaze.

"Stop it," she frowned at Erik's narrowing eyes. "Shouldn't we be allowed to keep some private thoughts?"

"Not when I am curious," Erik smirked again. "So none of them could make your body sing like I do. You thought sex was rather like listening to music, some tasteless and some cultured. There must be something wrong with me. I actually find that musing quite entertaining. No use closing your eyes. I can now read your thoughts, even when they are closed." He smiled triumphantly before frowning at the images he just pried out from somewhere deep in Hannah's mind. "Hmm… They look too much like the silly fop for my liking. I would have thought you had a better taste in men than that."

"I wasn't looking for someone exactly like you," Hannah retorted with mischievous grin. She'd just come up with a scheme to get back at Erik. "You despise him, don't you? I mean Raoul, Christine's husband."

"He is a simpleton," Erik replied with indignation. "To think that I had to compete with the fool and then lost does understandably pain me. It's a matter of pride."

"Close your eyes," Hannah commanded.

"I have a feeling that I won't like the game you are about to play with me."

"Trust me. I won't let your pride suffer any longer."

Erik closed his eyes, still determined that he would continue to despise Raoul.

"Now forget that he took Christine away from you. Disregard the fact that Christine chose him over you and married him."

"I'm trying," Erik replied.

"Now imagine you were Christine. See Raoul through her eyes. What do you see?"

"I see a lost little boy, rather dull and pathetic."

"You are not trying very hard. No cheating."

"I see a sweet smile and eyes full of longing and devotion. This doesn't change the fact that he is a fool. I see safety and promise of gentle love. This doesn't mean that Christine didn't have a bad taste in men. I see a man who is willing to do anything for her and a man blinded by love. I can see another fool next to him. Damn it, Hannah. You won."

"Not so fast," Hannah laughed. "Now kiss him."

"I do what?" Erik grumbled in disapproval, before seeing the images Hannah had just created.

* * *

Raoul looks defeated and helpless, waiting for certain death at the hands of his sworn enemy. Erik suddenly notices that Raoul looks very sensual, in his vulnerable state and in his wet clothing. He approaches Raoul to lift his rival's chin. He sees a pair of pleading eyes, which he finds beautiful. Instead of tightening the noose around Raoul's neck, Erik caresses his cheek before giving him a long and passionate kiss. Through the corner of his eyes, he sees Christine's eyes widen with horror and then narrow with fury. He turns around and tells stunned Christine that she can go. He will have Raoul instead.

* * *

Erik roared with laughter, his eyes almost in tears. The possibility that he could have loved Raoul in another life rather amused him. The bitterness and anger towards his old enemy were melting away. 

"You are wicked, Hannah. Wonderfully wicked," Erik grinned. "I must make sure that you won't wander around to seduce another unsuspecting fop in your world. I can be very jealous, and jealousy makes me dangerous."

"You have my soul and heart, and you still wish to deny my body any future opportunity for that little pleasure in the world which you do not even inhabit?" Hannah briefly wondered where this conversation was going. He must have known that she wouldn't hurt him with something that mattered so little to her. Why was he asking for something that he knew he already had? His voice had a tone of playfulness, but his eyes looked rather determined. She wanted to read his thoughts but was surprised to find that he had successfully shielded his thoughts from her. He was up to something, and this something was important to him.

"A pleasure that is so insignificant for you that you'd prefer listening to real music," he countered.

"It's a matter of principle. Not wanting is one thing. Not being allowed to want is quite another." Being unable to read his thoughts, she continued to play along with his game.

"What I ask is not related to your feelings. It is related to your actions, which you control perfectly."

"You will have to give me a better reason than that."

"Very well… If you'd rather me to go insane with jealousy, I will not try."

"It is hardly fair that you make such a demand when you are still pursuing Christine."

"Ah… but, you have noticed that she is back in my life and that I have no desire for her soul or heart. If I still desire her physically, it is because you do not disapprove of it. It is because you refuse to interfere with my conscious mind, and I cannot stop its desires alone. I gladly await the day when you wish to claim all of me as yours, both my conscious and unconscious self."

"Damn it, Erik. You won." Hannah sighed in exasperation. She should have known that it was a bad idea to talk about fairness with Erik. "Now please do inform me of how I'm going to put your mind at ease."

"I noticed that you wore no jewelry."

"I have no desire for them. I'd rather buy books."

"You will like this one," Erik purred. "Now close your eyes. No cheating."

Hannah closed her eyes and waited, trying to resist the temptation to see what he was doing. She smiled, as his fingers lightly brushed her hand before closing it gently. She opened her eyes to find a gold band on her palm. Slowly she kissed the ring and whispered the inscription inside. "With you, always."

Erik repeated Hannah's words in soft murmur and carefully applied his lips to the ring. He slipped it onto her left ring finger, his gaze never leaving hers. "This ring is my promise to you, Hannah," he said, his hauntingly beautiful voice full of love and tenderness. "I promise that I will find a way for us to be together in the same world."

* * *

After forcing herself to eat the sandwich she had grudgingly prepared, Hannah sat at her writing desk. She tried to get on with her translation work but found it difficult to concentrate on the job at hand. Instead of continuing fruitless efforts, she stared at the gold ring in her finger. It was still there when she had awoken from her dream. She could not remove it, however desperately she tried, remembering that she was not married in her world. The ring had become a part of her. _Thoughts and emotions are a form of energy. As such, they have power to carry matter through time and space._ Hannah thought to herself. _Still, most humans cannot move an object even an inch with thoughts alone. It would require an extraordinary strength of will power to move an object through time._ She then knew that Erik's power had grown stronger than she had suspected, even without the aid of his conscious mind. It finally dawned on her that it would be only a matter of time before he would find a way of keeping his promise to her. 


	15. Lessons II

Chapter Fifteen: Lessons II

Erik cast his eyes over the little device which Casanova referred as the English vestment and his assurance cap. The first of its kind was a present from the Earl of Condom to his king who had countless mistresses, to protect him from contracting syphilis. Men did not invent it to protect women from the shame of getting pregnant outside the wedlock. Nonetheless, it did manage just to do that, although the male preference for virgins was a clear indication that men preferred enjoying their sexual encounters without its aid. The thought of making Raoul raise his rival's child as his own in blissful ignorance entertained him a little, but he had no wish to bring another life into the world. It could also jeopardize Christine's fragile refutation and raise Raoul's suspicion. Raoul had already been separated from his Christine for longer than two whole months. He would rather withdraw himself from Christine the very last minute than put her through unwanted pregnancy. He had no wish to break her marriage. He was glad that Raoul would be always there for Christine.

Christine sat on the long couch, smiling anxiously, as he placed a tea tray on the low table in front of her. He filled a cup and handed it to her, gesturing her to drink it. She complied, searching his eyes and waiting for him to speak first.

"Shall we?" He rose, moving towards the piano. Her hand quickly grabbed his arm, stopping him moving further away from her.

"You told me you could be seduced," she said, her eyes now calm and resolute. "Seduce me then," he replied softly but firmly, kneeling down beside her.

She took his face in her hands and kissed him, letting all her passion find its outlet through her lips. He returned her kiss with equal force and found her eyes smiling.

"I've decided." Her eyes contained fire as her hands found their ways around his neck. "I want to make love to music."

He lifted her up effortlessly and carried her to the cellar, which he had converted into a guest room. The room was dark, only lit by a few candles. He laid her on the bed, his eyes staring into her determined eyes.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, foreseeing the response. "You understand that what we are going to share will not last."

"I can do this for that very reason," she replied, her voice not wavering, "because I know you will let me go."

They made love in complete silence, without a single word of sweet nothings. The promise of Don Juan was fulfilled. Raging fire consumed them both while their bodies were intertwined. He caressed her contented body gently afterwards. She let out a soft sigh. Looking at her beautiful face and remembering her desperate embrace, he understood it wasn't just a desire that had guided her. She desperately needed to love him physically.

"What are you feeling?" he asked, brushing her hair with his slender fingers.

"I feel shame. I feel sad that I betrayed the trust of my husband who loves me with all his heart and soul. Yet," she paused a little, closing her eyes in deep thought. "I feel liberated. Because the shame I feel now is nothing… compared with the shame that had haunted me… I betrayed my Angel… denied him and my deepest urge. I feel somehow I made it up for him. And I feel happy … because I feel… I know what it is like to succumb myself entirely to him, without fear…without struggle."

"You had to know, didn't you?"

She did not say anything but Erik knew the answer.

"Christine… do you hear music in your heart? Does it touch your soul?" Erik asked, seeing how she looked like that vulnerable child he had once known and loved. He carefully wrapped his arms around her bare shoulder, which looked unbearably fragile.

"You will still teach me, even after this?"

"No …. There is nothing that I can teach you." He shook his head, tender sadness filling his eyes. "Your techniques are now perfect. You understand pain and passion. These qualities will make your songs special and endearing. I will not provide my guidance when you do not need it. Just follow your heart, and you will find your song."

Her eyes were sad but showed understanding. He pressed his lips against her forehead. His kiss was brief and gentle. Through that kiss, he told her he had forgiven her. Christine felt peace in that same moment. She somehow felt that the kiss was from her angel and that he had finally forgiven her.

Six weeks later, Christine received a letter sealed with a skull wax. It read:

_Dear Christine,_

_As you must be aware by now, t__he French army is badly losing the war, and the defeat is immanent. I have now located your husband. He is leading his regiment towards __Versailles__ in retreat. Go and find him. Do not let him risk coming back to Paris to find you. Parisians are angry with the government and its incompetent nobles. _

_I bid you a farewell. Our paths shall never cross again. __I have forgiven you and trust that you did the same for me._

_Yours one last time,_

_O.G._


	16. The power of a ring

Chapter Sixteen: The power of a ring

Staring blankly into space, Erik pondered why he had changed his original plan. He did not intend to send Christine away so soon. It was true that all his questions concerning Christine now had been answered. They still however could have had a few more weeks of pleasure together, learning more about each other. Somehow it didn't feel right to desire her body again. Although his contempt towards Raoul had slightly weakened, he did not really care about Raoul to feel that it was wrong to continue his affair with Christine. After all, his rival had no regard for his feelings. Was he afraid? Afraid that Christine would fall in love with him and might decide to leave Raoul? _No, Christine would not have left Raoul._ He thought to himself, still desperately searching for the answer that seemed important to him. _She wanted to abandon herself to her passions, to the darkness of music, but not for the duration of her whole life. She genuinely desired her life and future with Raoul. _

_Then it is because you are already promised to someone else. _A voice spoke from inside him._ But I am not engaged. Am I? _He protested, still waiting for the answer.It was then that he saw a clear image of the illusive woman in his dreams. He studied every feature of the image with deliberate care, even though his heart was overwhelmed by indescribable feelings. He continued exploring her form, till he finally came to notice the gold ring on her finger. Almost immediately, he understood that the ring was his. Without a moment's pause, he rose from the bed and left the cellar. He had to know whether the ring still remained where he had been keeping it. After a long frantic search of his desk drawers, he finally let himself believe that the ring had truly vanished. _She was real. She is real. And she is mine._

He paced the living room restlessly. _What now?_ He asked himself. _What do I do now?_ _The script._ The answer came from within. _Of course, but where is it? Inside the suitcase._ He went in search of his half unpacked suit cases. He found them in the corner of his bed room, and carefully took out a rather worn-out ancient script from the one that contained a few books. He had come across the script during his stay in Persia and had kept it because its content was rather unusual. The characters of Persian mythology were usually identified as either good or evil. The stories often told the battle between the good and the evil.

The script in question, however, told a story more complex than the mere battle between the two opposite forces. It was a story of a female warrior and her half-brother. Sheila was a princess of a small country ruled by a succession of queens, under the protection of the moon goddess. As her country had come under ever increasing threat from a neighboring country that worshiped the sun god, Sheila was raised as a warrior from a very young age. Fearless and single-minded, she pursued, tamed and finally earned the love of the _Pegasus_, the sacred horse that could travel at the speed of sound, with her angelic voice and sheer determination. Her beauty and courage also attracted the attention of the war god, who gave her his prized possession, the _Sword of Fire_, which would kill any mortal man with just a slight touch. The war god had been uncharacteristically kind, even sentimental; the only condition of his gift being that she should promise herself to him. She could now defeat any mortal man on the Earth. But she did not want to be just a warrior queen. She also wanted to be a wise queen; she wanted to meet the _Phoenix_.

Rahall, Sheila's half-brother, had a gift of prophecy and could change his form into many different shapes, for his mother was none other than the moon goddess. Both he and his father enjoyed her protection. While they themselves were mere mortals, she ensured that neither death nor age should take them away from her. He lived in his crystal palace, surrounded by beautiful nymphs. Despite his everlasting youth and enviable abilities, Rahall's heart was full of bitterness, as he had seen the secret of his birth and his fate. His father loved neither his mother nor Sheila's mother. He only ever loved his Phoenix. He bedded two women, one mortal and one immortal, only to bring two soul mates into their earthly existence, at the request of the love of his life. Rahall was 500 years older than Sheila, and he had known his half-sister's coming long before she was born. His cursed fate meant that he would love her unconditionally, and that he would sacrifice his life to help her on her quest to find the Phoenix.

In that story, the gods' immortality depended on the golden _Nectar of Life_ that only the Phoenix could provide. They needed that lifeline every thousand years. But the Phoenix refused to meet them face to face, demanding that they should send a human of her choice as their messenger. On their way to her, she would create a series of beautiful illusions for the messengers, teaching them the secrets of the Universe and Time.

The gods were infuriated at the thought of relying on the insignificant mortals for their immortality. Despite the humiliation, they complied with her wishes every time. However, by the time the Phoenix chose Sheila as their latest messenger, the gods had grown bored with their perpetual existence. Nothing excited them any more. They had already seen everything that could even vaguely intrigue them. Well, almost everything. They had never attempted to dissolve themselves into nothingness. What great fun would it be to set a series of deadly traps for the new messenger on her way to secure another thousand years of their meaningless life? All agreed to the plan except the moon goddess and the war god, for their respective reasons.

The moon goddess sought help from her son. She pleaded with him that he should help his soul mate. At her suggestion, Rahall became furious; he knew what his mother did not. He would fight his fate and refuse to meet his soul mate, a woman whom he wasn't even allowed to touch, without invoking the wrath of the war god. His resolve did not weaken, despite all his mother's pleadings. Seeing no other solution, the moon goddess sent him to deep sleep, guiding Sheila to his side while he was blissfully ignorant of his surroundings. As his consciousness returned, he realized that his mother had set up a trap on him and that his futile fight against his fate was over.

He gave her a circlet that was adorned with crescent moon shaped crystals, which symbolized the power of his prophecy and the protection of the moon goddess. He told her that she should always wear the circlet and that the circlet would enable him to bring her back to him, whenever she was in danger. All he had to do was to call her name. Each time she faced an obstacle that her wits and her sword could not overcome, he would call her to his side. Together, they would find a solution for her latest barrier, before she went back to her journey. Together, they defeated numerous traps set by the gods, till…

The story abruptly came to an end, leaving the fate of the gods and the two lovers untold. However, the ending was not important to Erik. He read and reread the final part of the script several times. _The circlet… the symbol of their connection… the ring symbolizes our connection… Is that possible to break the time gap? Of course, it is possible. My ring traveled with her. She is wearing it. All I need now is her name._


	17. Promise Kept

Chapter Seventeen: Promise kept

"Erik, are you listening to me?" Nadir tried to get the attention of his friend, who looked rather worryingly dejected.

"What?" Erik replied absent-mindedly, his face still buried in his hands.

"I asked whether you were listening to me." Nadir kept trying to reach Erik. "I was saying that the opening night had been a big success and the critiques had loved the performance. You made it Erik. It was the night of your triumph."

"Ah… that." There was no enthusiasm in his voice.

"Erik, what is exactly wrong with you? You didn't even turn up to see that opening night performance."

"She didn't come… Now leave me alone and just go."

"Who? Christine?"

"No, not Christine… My wife..."

"I didn't realize you were married," said Nadir.

"I gave her a ring, and she accepted it. That makes her my wife. Now, can you just kindly remove yourself from my house? Or is that too much to ask?"

Nadir detected a clear sign of anger from Erik's voice but didn't leave. He didn't want Erik to sink back into the pit of despair once again. Against his better judgment, he decided to press for further conversation. He had to play the only card that would get Erik's full attention.

"Is her name Hannah?"

_Hannah! That was her name._ Erik smiled and felt a sudden urge to hug his Persian friend. Instead, he asked, doing his best to disguise his excitement, "How did you come to know her name?"

"I heard it while you were sleeping." Nadir winced at the prospect of suffering rather unpleasant outbursts of anger.

Erik simply nodded, much to Nadir's relief.

Erik's mind raced with thoughts of what must be done. Since Hannah no longer visited his dreams, simply transferring himself to her world didn't seem to be a viable option. Seeing that she was not willing him into her world, the only way for them to be together was, he figured out, for him to call her to his side. He was certain that she would come to him, once she understood how serious he was about his promise. He firmly believed that she would stay with him after she arrived. She should be able to see how much misery she had caused him through her absence. He had to believe in his ability. He had to trust the power of their connection. There was no time to lose. He refused to plague his mind with any kind of negative thoughts.

Nadir cleared his throat a few times, each time a little louder, trying to remind Erik of his presence. He was quite sure Erik had forgotten all about it. He didn't find it exactly entertaining just to watch someone thinking frantically. Being forced to acknowledge his friend's company, Erik looked at Nadir in slight annoyance. _What is he still doing here? Haven't I dismissed him already? Does he ever take a subtle hint?_ He sighed, realizing that he better deal with the business of his opera house before sending Nadir away.

"Employ an assistant manager who will look after the affairs of my opera house. I will make a set of instructions for you to give him but he is not to know where they really came from. Tell everyone that I went back to England for a while. I am moving back into my lair, where my wife will join me. You have my permission to move into this place. In the cellar, there is a hidden device, which will reveal the underground passageway for your use. I will show you how the device works once the war starts. You are allowed to come to my lair, but only when your life is in a mortal danger. Otherwise, I will be the one who will initiate any future contact between us till my official return to my opera house."

"You will keep your wife there? For… how long?"

"Where else do you suggest, Nadir?" Erik snapped. "It is not a good time to be in France. She will be safe there with me at her side."

Nadir didn't argue. What Erik said was true, except that Erik could have chosen to leave France. Nadir couldn't see, for the life of him, that any right-minded woman should desire living in a place so completely devoid of sun light. Then again, where Erik kept his wife was none of his business; that particular decision was perfectly within Erik's rights. He decided not to press the matter any further. He was just glad that Erik finally got over Christine and that his mood greatly improved for whatever reason.

"Is there anything else that I could help you with?"

"Look after Madame Giry and Meg on my behalf. I would not like to see Meg's talents wasted, and I'd rather see both of them live comfortably. However, they will not be allowed into the lair, under any circumstances. I no longer hold a grudge against Madame Giry. Nevertheless, she has proved herself to be weak and I shall not risk another betrayal. She is never to know that I was the Opera Ghost."

"Am I not mistaken in thinking that… you trust me?"

"Of course, you are the only person I trust, apart from my wife." Erik's voice was warm, as he gestured Nadir to leave.

Nadir nodded with an appreciative smile and turned to make his departure.

"Oh… and Nadir," Erik added causally. "Thank you, but don't ever do it again. I do not usually take invasion of my privacy kindly."

Erik ran his fingers down at the keyboard of his new organ, striking one key after another with passion and precision. Memories of Hannah that his unconscious mind faithfully stored flooded to the surface. He let his longing for Hannah run through each and every vibration of his music till he could no longer tell them apart. His lair had been beautifully restored. He had purchased clothing items for Hannah, which would fill a huge mahogany wardrobe and a matching five drawer chest. He deliberately had chosen a dozen of Artistic dresses as they did not require the use of corsets. Although dry fruits and nuts had amply been stocked for the harder times ahead, he purchased fresh fruits for Hannah while he still could. Satisfied that the place was ready to receive Hannah, he towered over the bed in his now pleasingly furnished bed room and stared into the space where he wanted to watch Hannah's form emerge from an empty space.

He closed his eyes and focused his mind on the ring he had given her, his inner voice calling her name. He was in his lair, a place which they both loved. Here he had composed music to celebrate the power of the night and reveal the secrets of dreams. Here Hannah had reached him and abandoned herself completely to his desire and his longing. The candle lights were illuminating the beauty of darkness, instead of fighting it. If his plan had any hope of success, it would happen here. He would not give up his attempt to bring her to him till he would faint in exhaustion. If he had not achieved it by then, he would try again as soon as he awoke. He stood still for hours, never once breaking his concentration. Finally he sensed her coming to him, breaking through the time barrier, slowly succumbing to his iron will. He opened his eyes and saw her lying on the bed, wearing nothing but his gold ring. He smiled and wrapped her curled up body with his cloak, before collapsing next to her in overwhelming fatigue.


	18. Love and sacrifice

Chapter Eighteen: Love and sacrifice

When Hannah heard him willing her into his conscious world, she fought him, still unsure whether she actually wanted to live with him in the realm of consciousness. She fought the will of her soul mate, the only man who could make her feel whole and give her life concrete meaning.

She had seen him and Christine together through his ring, watching every move they made in their sensual encounter, unable to tear her eyes from the scene. She found it rather odd that she was so engrossed in watching two people having sex. It was understandable that she wanted to see some of the performance. After all, she wanted to know exactly what Christine meant to Erik. But the fact that she neither was getting bored nor found the whole thing incredibly ridiculous started to unnerve her. She had watched porn films before but never managed to stay awake till the end of the viewings. She would laugh a bit and then fall asleep. There was nothing more off putting for the idea of making love than seeing others actually doing it. The look of adoration that the actors put on after seeing each other naked had made her burst into laughter. Had Freud ever watched a porn film, he could not have talked about _Penis Envy_ with such certainty. The much prized male organ, in her eyes, was the most awkward looking part of the human body, the act of penetration a futile effort to hide its gracelessness. But this time, the nakedness of two bodies didn't make her laugh. The usually meaningless, repetitive motions of coupling didn't bore her. The actors looked so beautiful and passionate together, as though they had belonged to each other. But if Erik and Christine belonged together, where did it leave Hannah? Could she have been wrong about her connection to Erik? Did this mean that she had truly lost him? As she watched on, fear and doubts grew in her mind. By the end of the viewing, she became convinced that Erik no longer needed her.

_Damn you Hannah. Damn your principle__s and curiosity._ She was not angry with Erik. She was angry with herself for letting it happen. She had no one but herself to blame for her misery. She could have helped Erik's conscious self to remember her and could have prevented his affair with Christine. It was her choice not to use that one power she held over him. She understood that Erik could have remembered her without her help, had it not been for his need to find the answers to the questions of his conscious self. Some things just had to run their course; otherwise the mind would never be free from beautiful illusions. The power of unrequited love could be intoxicating and blinding, as it spared the dreamer of the reality of everyday life with his beloved. Love denied was love that created. In that perpetual dream, the dreamer would create an image that had little resemblance to a living human… but that of an angel. Hannah would not interfere, when it was Erik's only chance to find out the true nature of the connection between him and Christine. But was it wrong of her to have hoped that he would somehow remember her? Did Christine mean so much to him that his conscious self could not recollect his promise to her, not even once during the whole affair? Did their sensual encounter have to look so _perfect_?

Despondent and alone, she refused to sleep that night. She could not face him; she did not know how to. When her exhausted body took her unwilling mind to sleep, she didn't dream. The next day, Hannah's usual confidence returned to her. After contemplating Erik's affair with Christine, long and hard, she decided that the ring's active role in revealing the event could only mean one thing; a chapter of his life was finally closed. Erik was finally free of Christine. Although it was a comforting thought, this development led to another concern. It meant that he could fulfill his promise any day now, with or without her assistance. She did not think it could happen so soon. She was not sure whether they were ready to cohabit in the same world.

She needed to clear her head, without Erik telling her everything would be just fine. It was true that she gave herself entirely to Erik in her dreams. However, that was no real sacrifice. Everything was safe in the realm of dreams. She could remain herself, however much she gave. Living with him in reality was another matter.

She could not possibly ask him to leave his world. He had more of a life there than she could ever have in any world. That just left one possibility. She would have to leave the only life she knew behind, which, admittedly, she didn't have much attachment to. Nevertheless, she was comfortable there. She had independence; she didn't have to rely on anyone. In his world, she had nothing; she had to rely on him for everything. She needed to know just how much sacrifice she could make for him, even though she knew she could not resist going back to him for long. Erik needed to know what he could expect from her before he made his promise a reality.

Another sleepless night passed, followed by a dreamless morning, testing her will to stay away from Erik to the very limit. Life with him, however miserable, was better than life without him. She could not make decisions alone. She just hoped he would not take any rash actions before they discussed their future together. She eagerly awaited another night. When it finally came, she realized that something went wrong; she could not see him in her dream. Instead, his voice found her, calling her to his side. She could not follow his call, not before they talked things through properly. But his determination did not waver, despite her struggle against his will. _Stop it, Erik. I'm not ready yet._ She fought him hard till it dawned on her that he could die trying to bring her to him. At that moment, she realized that she could make that final sacrifice she had been so afraid of making. She let his will descend on her and made it as her own.

Erik was floating in space, without purpose, without the weight of his being. He felt his body took leave of the Earth and the laws of gravity. Many times in a life of torment and passion, he had wished to feel what he was experiencing at that moment. But now that he felt finally free from his mortal existence, he did not find this freedom desirable. It did not feel right. He had to go back, because there was something that he could not leave behind; someone who made his existence tolerable, even pleasant. _No, these are not quite the right expressions._ His thoughts continued to wander. _Fulfilled… Yes, fulfilled. I must go back, but my body seems to be free of my will. I cannot do this on my own. I must call her._

"Hannah!" Her name, at long last, escaped his lips, sharply pulling her out from a death-like sleep. Her eyelids blinked several times in confusion, before she recognized the man lying next to her, his head to the side and his back towards the ceiling. The light emitting from a bronze oil lamp, fastened to a wall near his side of the bed, brushed his features gently, almost seductively. She looked at his familiar face, half buried in a soft pillow, with relief and astonishment. He was lying there fully clothed next to her nakedness, covered only by his cloak. _He is exhausted._ She thought. _He might not be comfortable… sleeping like this._ She began to undress him, starting with his boots, and then moving on to his jacket. After much struggle and clumsy efforts, she completed both tasks, before she finally realized something was very wrong with Erik. _He didn't stir…not even once._ His stillness unnerved and frightened her. _Erik, what is happening to you?_ With strength that she did not know she had possessed before, she quickly pulled him out of the remaining clothes. She covered him with soft blankets, and slid into the bed next to him. Wrapping her arms gently around him, she parted his cold lips with her own and slowly breathed her warmth into his still body. "Erik…" She called him repeatedly, till she felt his body ever so slightly responding to hers. "Come back to me."

He felt warmth encircling his drifting body, slowly waking his senses. _Can something so light contain the force of gravity?_ Erik wondered, as the tenderness pulled him towards the ground. For once, he did not feel morbid indignation at the prospect of falling. Her voice was calling him, giving his fall a purpose and direction. As her will touched and merged into his, his fall came to an end. His body once again heeded and obeyed his will.


	19. The reality check

Chapter Nineteen: The reality check

Erik awoke from his deep sleep to find a pair of angry eyes staring into his own proud, remorseless eyes. _She is wearing my shirts._ He observed with a sense of delight. _How happy I am to find her in them._

"Did you know just how dangerous it was… what you were doing? You could have died and left me here, next to your… lifeless body."

"You should not have avoided me. I have little patience. You left me no other option." He brushed off the uncharacteristic outburst, before giving in to mirth. "Hannah you are angry. I've never seen you so before. You were always so… calm. Do you know just how sensual you look in your fury?"

"You seem to bring out some strange emotions in me."

She averted her eyes from his, as silent tears uncontrollably rolled down her cheeks. In her desperate attempt to bring Erik back to her, she neither had time nor energy to think about the possibility of defeat. Now he had returned to her, the thought that she could have lost him troubled her and became unbearable. She felt his fingers on her sultry cheeks, ever so gently wiping away the tears. They banished just as suddenly as they had appeared, as three simple words, uttered with serenity and clarity, started to sink in her mind. "I am here."

Erik watched her crying for a little while. He felt both fascinated and touched by her tears. Her looks were feminine; every single feature of her form allured men to believe that she was a delicate and vulnerable creature, in need of their protection. Some men, usually those who understood pain, could see just a little beyond her appearance. They could see warmth and understanding towards suffering from her eyes, and sought comfort from her, like sons would seek warmth from their mother. But even the latter had no understanding of her peculiar and independent mind, carefully hidden behind her feminine exterior. She did not like her appearance, not because it was somewhat uncommon, drawing unwanted attentions to herself, but because it created the wrong impression. She neither desired nor needed comforting from another human being. Her sadness was her own and only retained its beauty when it remained so. Erik knew this was not a moment that would repeat itself every so often. Its rarity made him wish that it would last just a little longer so that its image would be firmly imprinted in his mind.

As he continued to watch, he felt his heart ablaze with a desire to take her in his arms and make love to her. He wanted to explore every inch of her body with his assertive lips and adept fingers, making her whimper with inexorable pleasure and longing. Instead, he dried her tears and comforted her. They were in the realm of reality now, and certain things needed to be taken care of first. Ideally, these things should have been discussed before he brought her to his world. But then it wasn't exactly his fault that they had not had a prior opportunity to discuss the matter.

"You must be hungry."

Hannah looked at him blankly, trying to register his words. _Yes… of course. We do things like eating when we are conscious._

"Do you want your shirt back?" she said with a grin, glancing at his nakedness that was somehow endearing to her eyes.

Erik dressed himself with his usual grace and walked to the wardrobe in the corner. "I bought a few clothing items for you, Hannah. Have a good look at them later on, and tell me what else you will need," he said, holding the door open.

"A few? I think I've got more than I will ever need."

"I kept some of my clothes here, as well. I will show you the rest of your clothes, when you are ready."

Erik's eyes were filled with pride, as she finished dressing herself. He had been right. The blue silk dress he had chosen for her fitted her perfectly in every sense of the word. After a simple meal of fresh fruits and bread, he showed her the refurbished rooms in their home. Hannah concentrated hard to remember where things were kept, things that were irrelevant in dreams but an important part of everyday life. She felt pleased with herself, as she seemed to have managed reasonably well, despite her usual hopelessness on such matters. Finally, Erik led her back to their bedroom.

"Is everything in our home for your liking?" He asked, allowing her head to rest on his lap and lightly stroking her hair.

"I noticed that you left some of the walls bare and white. Thank you," she replied earnestly. "I could not have wished for a better place to live in."

"You love staring into an empty space. Do you not?" He laughed quietly.

"So many possibilities live in unoccupied spaces." She smiled.

"Is it OK if we live here just for a year or so, till it is safe for you to live above ground? I can purchase an estate in England if you are not happy here. There is still time to escape France."

"I don't want to take you away from your opera house. I'm perfectly fine here. I love this place."

"I'm just worried that the dampness could affect your health. I have Chinese tea that helps to prevent that. You will have to drink it everyday."

"I am much younger than you," she said wistfully. "I think I can easily survive one year's underground living. But I promise I will drink it everyday."

"We won't be here all the time. I will have to keep an eye on my staff and you are welcome to accompany me on my secret rounds. We can even watch the opera from my private box… I can take you to the roof where we can look at the night sky." He paused a little and added. "But, whatever you do, don't leave this place without me. It is simply too dangerous."

"I am hopeless when it comes to a sense of location. I wouldn't dare leave this place without you," she assured him, grasping and squeezing his hand. "I trust you are finished with educating me about the reality of life underground, for now. There was quite a lot for me to take in. You can teach me more tomorrow."

She sat up and turned her head slightly towards him, holding his chin with one hand.

"Erik," she whispered into his ear. "What are we waiting for?"

_Take her. Just claim what is yours now. Everything else can wait._ He so wanted to listen to the voice. It sounded reasonable and wise but he knew he would never find the courage to ask her what he wanted, if he let the voice win.

"Hannah, there is something that I must tell you," Erik spoke, somewhat dreading her reaction. "I want to make our marriage legally standing."


	20. Always Beside You

Here is the last chapter. I wish I could have written the whole story better. But I've written it and hope you liked it somewhat. Thank you for all those who took their time to leave the reviews. They meant a lot to me.

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Chapter Twenty: Always beside you

_Why __must you sound so final?_ Hannah's eyes questioned him, making Erik feel heavy with the unfamiliar sense of guilt.

"That's it?" She sighed. "You are not asking me whether I want our marriage legally sanctioned. You are telling me you want it so."

Erik looked at her helplessly. She looked so withdrawn.

"Hannah, I said it that way because I knew the concept of conventional marriage repelled you. Please, just hear me out." His voice was gentle but unyielding. He already knew she wouldn't be exactly overjoyed by the prospect of a legal marriage. He still had to persuade her.

"You are much younger than me. You said it yourself. You are likely to survive my death. When that happens, I want you to own everything I have. It is just a matter of formality to ensure that you will live comfortably after I'm gone."

_I don't want to live comfortably after you are gone. I don't want to live at all. What reason do I have to remain in this world when the only meaning for my life here is no more?_ She protested silently.

Realizing that Hannah was not going to change her mind anytime soon, Erik decided to use a different approach.

"Hannah," he called her softly, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. Observing her relaxing slightly, he continued. "We will have to live outside this place eventually. I cannot let you become the subject of unpleasant gossip. Is it so terrible that we choose the easy option, when you do not wish to confront the world?"

"Erik, I'm not disputing that I am a coward. I have always wanted to be hidden from the world. I certainly do not want to be talked about. I dislike the concept of the legal marriage but our relationship is more important to me than my views on the subject."

"In that case, am I not entitled to know why you do not warm to my request?"

Hannah nodded her agreement. He needed to know the reason behind her apprehension.

"I don't want you to be unhappy because you are legally tied to me. Judicial divorce, even on grounds of fault, will not be available in this country till 1884. I know you do not want a child at the moment but there might come a time when you do. Most people want to leave something of themselves behind; they want children. When that happens, I want you to give the legal protection to your children and their mother."

"You will tolerate the abusive glares of society just in case I might change my mind about children?"

"I can endure that. What I cannot bear to see is for you to regret your commitment to me. When I realized that you would not give up your attempt to bring me into your world till you were dead, I decided that I could make a real sacrifice for you. I was ready to give you everything you would want and expect from me. But I can not be responsible for bringing another life into this world. What I am saying is that you don't have to marry me to have all of me. I can give all you want from me as your mistress."

"Are you the same Hannah who was avoiding me because I had had a one-off affair with Christine?" Erik was trying his best to suppress laughter. He was, of course, touched by her willingness to give up so much of herself for him. Still, the images of Hannah playing a docile wife were almost comical.

"I know I didn't exactly react to the affair the way I should have done." Hannah retorted, sensing his amusement. "But I mean what I've just said, Erik. You don't have to marry me."

He lifted her head up to look at her straight in the eyes.

"I haven't got time for anyone else. Why would I want anyone else in my life when I have my soul mate next to me? Do you think I could have brought you here, had I not had that connection to you? I will never have that much power over anyone as I have over you. I don't want anyone come between us. Not even a child. Well, especially not a child. Besides, I know, for you, it's more of a sacrifice to become a wife than to become a mistress. Just make this one sacrifice for me. I need you to live beside me, each and every day, without worrying about what happens to you when I am gone. I ask of you nothing else."

"I do not have to play someone else for your sake?"

"You never have to wear a mask when you are with me. I will not allow it."

"I suppose we can always move to England if you change your mind." She wrapped her arms tightly around him, with a slight smile.

"I will take that as a _yes_." He let out a sigh of relief.

"Long hair suits you well. I love it so," she said, her slim fingers playing with his soft brown hair, which now almost touched his shoulder line.

"Do you think you can manage to fall in love with me in my world?" He asked, holding her waist firmly with his hands.

"Woo me," she said with a playful grin. "Let's just pretend that I could go back to my world, if I wanted to. Convince me why I should give up my world to be with you in 1870 France which does not excite me that much."

"Men in 1870 have better dress sense than their counterparts in 1970."

Hannah laughed. "So true, especially when it comes to your refined taste."

"The year 1870 has something that you did not have before. Come… lie next to me."

Hannah felt his penetrating gaze upon her. She slowly closed her eyes as a sense of wonder overtook her.

"What do you feel, Hannah?"

"I feel your body… its weight."

"Does the weight of reality still frighten you?"

Hannah shook her head.

"Touch me," he commanded.

She ran her fingers through his hair, over his face and his chest, inhaling his smell and breathing his breath.

"Can you honestly tell me that there is no difference between this… and what we shared in our dreams, however beautiful we were?"

"No." Her eyes were now open to meet his searching gaze.

"Then, Hannah, you have your answer. I am sorry that I brought you here without asking your permission first. I can be, at times, reckless and impatient. I'm not an easy man to live with, but I promise I will make it worthwhile for you to live here beside me. You calm and pacify me without even trying. I know it will work."

"Then do whatever you want with me." Hannah whispered, her eyes mirroring her heart's desire. "I will not be without you. I do not want to breathe a single breath in this world… in any world… if you do not reside in it."

He slowly and lovingly moved his fingers over her, his eyes focusing on every move she made, his mind masterfully recording every sound she muttered. She moved gently but with purpose, drawing his pleasure and sensing his touch. As their bodies entwined, their breaths mingled, their hearts beating as one. In this lair where the sun held no power, where the boundaries of the conscious and the unconscious blurred, their dreams merged into reality. The duality of body and soul gave in to the all-encompassing power of darkness, melting into one, just like the way it had been at the beginning of time. In that darkness, he played her entire being as he had never done before, till she became the very essence of his music.

They lay side by side, her head resting on his shoulder and her hand holding his tightly. She was happy, deliriously so. A lone tear rolled down her cheek. She knew what that happiness meant. It was the loss of the most fundamental freedom; she was no longer free from the fear of death.

"Why?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

"Akhilleus said the gods envied us because we were mortal. Our life is beautiful because it will not repeat. Yet, happiness makes us envy the gods."

"I am sure I will find you again and again. You will never be free of me."

"You took your time."

"I will be more alert next time, and that's a promise."

A gentle smile appeared across her face. It didn't matter if he could not keep his ambitious promise. He was next to her, and nothing, even fear of the future, could take away the fact that they were happy together.

"You said once that you were afraid of looking at the night sky because the loneliness of the stars overwhelmed you," he said, almost in a whisper. "Next time you see the stars, you won't find them so lonely because I will be there to hold your hand."

"And when you feel small and insignificant at the sheer scale of the universe, I will be there to tell you that you are the universe," she replied, sealing her promise with a kiss.

"Hannah," he called her softly and found her smiling at him. "I love you."


End file.
